


The Pirate Groom

by Sunshines_Fabulous_Legs



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Princess Bride Fusion, F/F, Fantasy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pirates, Swordfighting, Swords & Sorcery, Why does the tag "Homoerotic Swordfights" not exist?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshines_Fabulous_Legs/pseuds/Sunshines_Fabulous_Legs
Summary: The summer Julian spent at a farm, he met the love of his life. But the love of his life died. And Julian was promised to another man. In another story, Julian might have accepted his fate, hating his life every day. But in this story, Julian decided to take action. He changes his name, enlists the help of Three Witches, and sails across the world to get revenge on the pirate that killed his true love. Except that Julian will find more than what he expected in this journey.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 129





	The Pirate Groom

**Author's Note:**

> Princess Bride Geraskier AU is best AU.
> 
> And no beta readers. We die like men, women, and non-binary adults.

Once upon a time, a Viscount’s son fell in love with a farmhand. The Viscount thought that his son Julian had grown too soft leading the life of a noble, flirting at parties, play music, not caring for a thing in the world. So the Viscount had Julian shipped off to a farming village at the edge of his territory to live off the land for a year. Julian had protested against this plan, throwing himself on the furniture and crying. But the Viscount was having none of it. And Julian protested every step of the way to the farm.

The complaining stopped when Julian saw the farmhand.

Julian had read every single poem about love in his father’s library. He had read it be compared to all manner of flowers; roses, daisies, lilies. It had been compared to a burning fire and the depth of the ocean. Julian had even read one poem where it was compared to a swamp. He later found out that that particular poem was written by his grand-uncle and no one dared anger him by telling the man how terrible the poem actually was. But for Julian, he understood every single word, because they applied to that farmhand.

Julian would soon learn that the farmhand’s name was Geralt, and he would make sure Julian wouldn’t die or do any irreparable harm to the farm. Julian thought Geralt didn’t look at him the same way, because the man would hardly ever speak. Whenever Julian asked Geralt a question, he would give one-word answers that would end the conversation, or he would respond with a noncommittal grunt.

And how that noise drove Julian insane. Both in how the roughness in Geralt’s voice made Julian fall more in love and how Julian got nothing from him. And as the days passed into weeks, Geralt used his words less and less.

Until the day Julian found out why.

It was a day in late August, when the whispers of autumn spoke in the night. Julian had finished tending to the sheep, when he saw that the fence had a break. He looked for Geralt so the farmhand could fix it. Julian found the farmhand in a small grove near the farm. Geralt was practicing sword work, and Julian could tell the farmhand knew how to handle a weapon. Julian told Geralt about the fence, and Geralt stopped his practice to fix the problem.

A few days later, Julian asked Geralt to show him how to use a sword. Geralt responded with his usual noise, so Julian forgot about it. Until two days after that, Geralt told Julian to follow him outside, where Geralt led Julian back to the grove.

And of course, Geralt said nothing else as they trained. Julian would prod, as best as he could while fighting. Even when Julian asked about his form, Geralt wouldn’t speak. He’d gently move Julian’s arms. It infuriated Julian that the farmhand said nothing, though he didn’t mind the contact. Until Julian snapped.

“How don’t you speak?” he asked. Geralt froze, his arms around Julian’s, their bodies pressed close. “Am I that annoying to you? Do you think me a noble too far above you to speak to?”

Geralt turned away from Julian, but Julian could see the blush on Geralt.

“Because I really like you. I just wish you’d say something to me.”

“I’m afraid that if I do,” Geralt said, “I wouldn’t be able to keep in how much I’m falling in love with you.”

Julian could tell that Geralt hadn’t kissed anyone before that day.

Geralt still didn’t talk as much, but Julian didn’t mind this silence. Instead of the silence of uncertainty, it was a silent strength, of someone who knew when he should speak.

They passed autumn and winter together, every day both of them wondering why the other would ever choose him. Until spring came, when Julian would have to return to his home. When Julian knew his father would return for him.

“When will I see you again?” Julian asked Geralt the morning before Julian was to leave.

Geralt hummed, and pulled Julian closer to him, their bodies close in their bed.

“You could come with me,” Julian said, “I’m sure that I could find work for you at my family’s estates. Or I could always find a reason to come here.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Geralt said. “I joined the navy.”

“What?” Julian asked, pushing himself up and away from Geralt. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why are you doing this?”

“I’m confident I can rise through the navy’s ranks quickly. And then I can become someone suitable for you.”

“You’re perfect the way you are,” Julian said.

But the decision was already made. The day that Julian left for his estate was the day Geralt left for the navy, in hopes that one day they could truly be together. Again Julian tried to stop Geralt, asking him why he would do such a thing.

“When you know what you want,” Geralt told him, “you do whatever you can to get it.”

Julian told himself that this was how Geralt was fighting for him. He told that to himself again and again, hoping that eventually, he would believe it himself.

Julian stopped repeating it when he heard that the ship Geralt served on was attacked by the famed pirate, the Butcher of Blaviken. He stopped doing much of anything after that, and it was a miracle that he simply didn’t waste away.

It took Julian five years to pick up an instrument again.

If Julian knew the next thing his musical abilities brought him, he never would have picked them up again. For one night when he was invited to play at a royal ball, the prince of the kingdom, a cruel man named Valdo Marx, saw Julian and wanted him immediately.

Julian’s father agreed to the marriage quickly. Julian himself didn’t care that he despised his betrothed. No one could ever compare to the love that he felt for Geralt. For the love that the Butcher of Blaviken took away from him.

By all accounts, Julian should have been happy in the royal palace. He had servants that were ready to wait on him every second of every day. He had vast lands that he could explore, hunt in. He had all manner of fine art to occupy his time.

But what Julian missed the most was the smell of summer grass, the ache of a long day of horse riding, and almost one-sided conversations with a white-haired man. Yet Julian told himself that he would never have that life again.

And Julian was right, but not in the way he thought. For this is a story that begins with “Once upon a time,” and every story that starts that way must end “And they all lived happily ever after.” Julian would never have that same idyllic life with Geralt. But he would find happiness. And the journey to his own happily ever after started when he first heard about the Three Witches.

“I’ve heard,” a maid told him, “that the witches are immortal because they sacrificed a dozen newborn babies to a dark god and ate their flesh.”

“I heard,” a stableboy told Julian, “that one of the witches is the daughter of a god, and her voice can alter reality.”

“The stories say,” a noble acquaintance that Julian couldn’t stand said, “the witches can see what your heart desires and grant it, but they twist that desire around so you curse the day you ever met them.”

“They’re three women,” a farmer told Julian after days of finding nothing useful, and anything that was remotely useful contradicted every other story. “They’re powerful and have magic. And if you pay them enough, they’ll help you with just about anything.”

“So, like everyone else?” Julian asked.

The farmer nodded. “Yep,” she said, “they travel through all the land because those fools who believe the stories don’t want to associate with them.”

“So what can they do?”

“Anything really, they’re witches. Think you could afford their services?”

“I don’t know if I can afford not to.” Julian thanked the woman for providing the only clear answers out of anyone he had spoken to.

He thought about his plan again and again throughout the next several days. On one hand, the witches were about the only option he had, because there was no way he could do this on his own. On the other hand, there was no guarantee that the farmer had known the truth; she could have been mistaken and Julian would be risking his life in this crazy endeavor. But Julian also realized that it was either choose the witches, or Valdo Marx.

Julian had no problem getting enough money to pay for the witches. Or rather, more than enough money than he thought was enough. He had no idea if the witches would charge him more or less than what he thought, so he wanted to be extra sure. And of course, he had to get enough to pay for the travel, which would take a while. But the reason he didn’t have to worry about getting that crazy amount was because Valdo Marx had so much wealth, he would never notice what Julian took.

But how could Julian travel through the land without anyone knowing him? Valdo Marx had shown his betrothed off to about every city and village the prince cared about, and besides that, Julian’s own musical talent made a name for him.

So he needed a disguise for himself. But what exactly? Did Julian go over the top and disguise himself as a poor old woman? Though if he did that, it wouldn’t quite work with his story. So something simple, Julian told himself.

The idea came to him when he opened up an old book, and the buttercup Geralt had given to him years ago fell out of the pages.

A week later, Julian escaped from the palace in the middle of the night. He looked in his mirror one final time; his hair now yellow instead of its natural brown, his clothes still fine, but much more suited for travel. And he whispered to himself the name he would have to get used to call himself.

“Jaskier.”

Julian, or rather, Jaskier hadn’t ever been to this sea-side city before. He had planned to come here once. Before he lost Geralt.

Now he hunted down the Three Witches. He had first heard they were holding in a mountain fort. Then a village deep in the southern jungles. But he had found a reliable source that told him the witches could be found by the sea. Which Jaskier found fortunate, as he needed them to take him out to sea.

It took Jaskier three days to find them. It was the youngest witch that he found first, at a tavern that a woman that young shouldn’t be alone at. Jaskier had decided to try his hand at playing his lute at the taverns, hoping that if he got people in a cheery mood, they would be pliant for information. But so far, no results. And it seemed that this place had no mood for a traveling bard, so Jaskier thought it unlikely he would find anything useful here.

Until the young blonde woman came up to him. “You have some lettuce on your shoulder,” she said to Jaskier.

“Oh, thank you,” Jaskier said as he brushed it off. “Tough crowd. You’d think that a place this gloomy would appreciate something to brighten it.”

“I’ve noticed that some people find more comfort in the darkness than they do the light. Would you like to sit with me?”

“Absolutely.” Jaskier followed the young woman to a table and placed his lute down between them. “I’m Jaskier.”

“Ciri. What brings you to the coast?”

“Who says I’m visiting?”

“Your clothes look too worn to just be traveling around the city.”

“Fair enough,” Jaskier said. “Is that why you’re talking to me? Trying to help a poor lost traveler find his way in a new big city?”

“You just seem interesting,” Ciri said. “But not in the ‘You’re my type” kind of way. What exactly brings you here?”

“I’m looking for three women.”

“Oh, how very ambitious of you. Word of advice, make sure these women don’t find each other. Unless that’s what they’re into.”

“It’s not like that, nothing like that at all. I’m wondering if you’ve heard about the Three Witches.”

Ciri gave Jaskier a stare that told him she knew quite a bit, but was still deciding on if she wanted to tell him. “Follow me,” she said. “I think I might be able to help you.” She left a few coins on the table and crept out of the tavern, Jaskier right behind her.

“Thank you so much,” Jaskier said. “You have no idea how much misinformation I’ve heard trying to find these women. Seriously, how hard is it to actually find reliable information?”

“You put a little too much faith in the average person.”

“Still, thank you so much Ciri.”

Ciri led Jaskier down an alleyway, then turned on Jaskier. He tightened his grip on his bag, and looked around to see if anyone hid in the shadows. “Why do you want to find the Three Witches?” Ciri asked.

“I . . . I need their help. And I don’t know who else can.”

“Can’t you help yourself?” Ciri asked. “I’ve seen many people do amazing things when they think they couldn’t. Why would you waste so much time and energy trying to find people who others believe to be monsters?”

“Because I’ll be facing a monster myself. Besides, I honestly doubt that these women would kill babies to keep themselves alive forever.”

The look Ciri gave Jaskier made him question his previous statement.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked. “You said you had a way to help me. What’s your plan?”

“You’ll see,” Ciri said, her tone stating she didn’t want to answer any more questions.

The alleyways Ciri took Jaskier progressively got darker. At least, that was how Jaskier felt. The light quality didn’t change much as they walked, but Jaskier’s own overdramatic imagination made this worse than it needed to be.

Finally, Ciri knocked on a wooden door in a nearly run-down street. She walked in without waiting for anyone to answer. Jaskier hesitated, until Ciri called back asking if he was coming.

Jaskier followed her into a small sitting room, that was occupied by a short table, two boxes used for chairs, a table covered with herbs, crucibles, and glass bottles, and two other women. The woman sitting at the table eating a bowl of stew had curly hair, brown skin, and looked at Jaskier like he was a lost puppy that wandered in. The woman at the table had long straight hair, lighter skin, and a look that nearly sent Jaskier running out of the room.

“Triss, Yennefer,” Ciri said, “I want you to meet Jaskier.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Triss said. “Please, take a seat.”

“Charmed,” Jaskier said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too. And you Yennefer. You have a, lovely little home here.”

“We’re only staying here until we move on from this city,” Yennefer said, her eyes looking at a mixture. “But I appreciate the fact that you think we’d willingly live here.”

“You are the ones who are staying in here,” Jaskier snapped back.

“He does have a point,” Ciri said.

“Oh behave,” Triss said. “Jaskier is Ciri’s guest, please show him some courtesy.”

Yennefer sighed and finally looked at Jaskier. “I’m sorry. I’ve just talked to Ciri several times about inviting strange men to our home without telling myself or Triss.”

“Dara did nothing wrong!” Ciri said.

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Yennefer said. “But the question remains, why are you here? What did Ciri tell you that made you want to join the three of us in the middle of the night?”

“Well, I’m looking for the Three Witches. I recently heard that they were staying here, and I’ve been searching for them for a couple of days now. And I really need to find them soon because I need there help for something huge and if I don’t leave this city soon, I’m sure there are going to be people I don’t want to face coming to find me.”

“So you’re on the run,” Triss said, “and you need them to help you do something huge for you?”

“I mean, I don’t want to say everything. But rest assured, the moment I find the witches, I’ll be sure to explain everything to them.”

“Where do you find these people?” Yennefer asked Ciri.

“Oh hush,” Triss said, “he’s still adorable.”

“What are you . . .” Jaskier started.

“It’s amazing that you haven’t been killed if you haven’t realized that we’re the Three Witches you’re looking for,” Yennefer said.

When Jaskier registered exactly what Yennefer had said, he just about ran out. “I’m sorry, but you three are, I mean, I had no idea . . . Ciri, why didn’t you . . . what were you . . .”

“I thought this could be some fun,” Ciri said. “Besides, I don’t really want to go around announcing that I’m one of the infamous Three Witches.”

“Okay then,” Jaskier said, “that’s uh, it’s great that I found you.”

“So,” Triss said. She put down her bowl and leaned closer to Jaskier. “What can we do for you? What dangerous task do you need help from the Three Witches?”

Jaskier took a deep breath first, then said, “I need your help to kill the Butcher of Blaviken.”

The Three Witches were silent for a moment. Yennefer was the one who broke the silence with a laugh. “I have to say,” she said, “my opinion of you is improving and somehow getting worse by the second.” She looked over at Ciri. “Where do you find these people?”

“So you want us,” Triss said, “to help you hunt down the world’s most infamous pirate? The person who got their name because they slaughtered an entire city to fuel a dark ritual to give them immortality?”

“That’s why I need the three of you,” Jaskier said. “Three Witches should be able to help me figure out how to take them down.”

“Well he certainly thinks highly of himself,” Yennefer said. “Ciri, Triss, what do you think? Are you willing to join this crazed bard in a suicide mission?”

“It would mean seeing the ocean,” Ciri said.

“Ciri,” Yennefer replied, “the ocean is down the road. Take a walk if you want to see the ocean. In fact, I think I’m going to take a walk right now.”

“Look, I know that it’s crazy,” Jaskier said, standing up and blocking Yennefer from leaving. “But I’m confident that we can find a way. And I have reasons why I want the Butcher dead.”

“Is it love?” Yennefer asked. “Please tell me it isn’t love.”

Jaskier wondered whether stringing Yennefer along in a lie would be worse than telling the truth. “Okay, fine, it’s love. The Butcher killed the man I loved.”

“Oh, so it’s love and revenge.” Yennefer dropped down on the stool Jaskier had been sitting on. “Because when those things mix only good things can happen.”

“But he found us,” Ciri said. “I was the one who found him. What are the chances of that happening?”

“Very low,” Triss said. “Too low for it to be a coincidence.”

“Then it must be destiny,” Jaskier said. “That I just happened to choose the tavern that Ciri did.”

“Then will destiny waltz up and tell you how we can defeat an immortal human?” Yennefer asked.

“I can pay you,” Jaskier said, “whatever you’d like, I can pay you.”

Triss turned to Yennefer. “We do need the money.”

“And it sounds like it could be fun,” Ciri added.

Yennefer looked around at the three people who were currently against her. “Alright. We first need to find a way to kill him. We’re not charging at the Butcher without some plan.”

Jaskier grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So, against Yennefer’s better judgement, the four of them found passage on a ship headed north, towards the Land Steeped in Magic. If they could find a solution to stopping the Butcher of Blaviken, it would be there. For the most part, their journey was simple and smooth. Some of the sailors early on tried to harass the Three Witches. It didn’t end well.

Jaskier didn’t mind the ship himself. It meant that he had an audience every night who was willing to listen to his music. Sometimes they grew tired of it, and sometimes they remembered that they had very little entertainment otherwise. Fortunately, no one on the boat recognized him. All of the sailors thought he was a simple traveling bard, and not the runaway fiance of the prince. Granted, these people spent their lives on the ocean, and many of them came from different countries. So Jaskier felt relieved. He was more annoyed with maintaining his new hair color than scared that someone would recognize him.

“You’re the prince’s fiance,” Yennefer said to Jaskier one evening, “Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

At least she confronted him about it when they were alone.

But Jaskier still looked around to make sure no one heard her. “How did you figure that out?” he asked.

“Well I hadn’t. I was fairly confident, but I wasn’t sure.”

“That’s sneaky and rude you, rude sneak.”

“Are you sure you write your own material? You should include that line in your next ballad. I’m sure people will eat it up.”

“That’s beside the point. What do you want?”

“The truth,” Yennefer said. “For once, the whole entire truth.” She grabbed a chair and sat down, her look telling Jaskier she had nothing to do but listen. Which was true since they were stuck on a boat.

“Fine,” Jaskier said. He pulled up his own chair and sat down across from Yennefer, both of them noting the distance Jaskier put between them.

“My first question,” Yennefer said. “Why are we going for the Butcher and not Valdo?”

“Valdo has nothing to do with this. I met him several years after the Butcher killed the man I loved. Granted, I still hate him, but it’s the Butcher who has to answer.”

“And why did you need the three of us specifically? Surely the prince would have enough resources to stop the Butcher.”

“Countless kings and queens have tried to stop the Butcher year decades. Excuse me if I didn’t find his help to be useful. And . . . I couldn’t live in that palace anymore.”

“You give up a life of luxury for the chance to kill an immortal person. Of course, how could I have ever questioned that.”

“Valdo Marx is an insufferable illness and I hope that the king loves his queen long and hard and they have another child so he doesn’t inherit the entire kingdom. That man has less use in the world than a man in a convent of lesbian nuns.””

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“So, I’ll figure my life out. If I have to travel around the world as the blond bard Jaskier, earning my keep with my music, so be it. Anything would be better than that man.”

Yennefer nodded. A gesture which told Jaskier absolutely nothing.

“Does this change anything about our agreement?” Jaskier asked. “Are you going to tell Triss or Ciri about my real name?”

“No, that’s up to you. I would think about it though, because those two are as smart as I am. They’ve already figured out that you’re hiding something.”

“Noted.”

Yennefer stood up and walked out of the cabin. But before she left, she said, “The Butcher took someone who was important to me too.”

Jaskier didn’t know how to respond for a few seconds. “I’m sorry to hear that. Were they . . . ?”

“No, we weren’t together like that. Though personally I wouldn’t have minded it if we did. He was in love with someone else though, and I have Triss now.”

“So I guess Ciri was right about this being destiny.”

Yennefer glared at Jaskier. “We’ll see.”

Jaskier didn’t tell Ciri and Triss the truth. Part of him wanted to, since Yennefer took it well and he assumed that she would be the worst if the truth got out. But he ultimately decided that it was better this way. Keep his guard up with them, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything going wrong.

And something went wrong a month into the voyage.

For Jaskier, it was just any ordinary day. He woke up, and tried to find something to do that wasn’t the chores the sailors sometimes put on him. So Jaskier found a quiet nook where he was writing down song lyrics, which quickly turned into what he would say to the Butcher before Jaskier killed them.

“I’m here because . . . no that doesn’t quite work. I want you to know . . . ugh, that’s not it.” Jaskier looked at the paper that was more scribbles than words at that point. Which is when he felt the ship rumble.

“Fuck!” Jaskier said as ink spilled on his shirt. He managed to catch his inkwell when the second rumble happened. He crawled out of his hiding place to see the crew running up and down the hallway.

“What’s happening?” Jaskier asked.

“Pirates,” a sailor said, “we’re getting fired at.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier said. If his mission of revenge against a pirate lord was going to be stopped by another pirate, he was going to have some long words with whatever gods he met in the afterlife.

“Jaskier,” Triss said. He saw her running towards him. “Have you seen Yennefer or Ciri?”

“Not since last night,” Jaskier said. “But I’m sure they know by now what’s going on.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. I need you to keep Ciri safe.”

“Me?”

“Okay, I need you and Ciri to hide, and if worse comes to worse, she’ll protect you.”

“I know how to use a sword.”

“So does Ciri. Add that to her magic and I know who I’d place my money on in a fight.”

“Rude,” Jaskier said as Triss turned to look for the other two.

When Jaskier got onto the deck, he saw the other ship was closer than he would have liked. He also saw Yennefer looking at it.

“Yennefer!” Jaskier called out. “Where’s Ciri? Triss asked me to watch her.”

“Good,” Yennefer said. “Do you see that flag?”

Jaskier looked up and saw a black flag with a golden lion. “Well it certainly looks majestic. What about it?”

“That’s the mark of the Lioness. A powerful Pirate Queen. But I’ve heard that she’s been looking for a young woman with powerful magic. And golden hair.”

“I need to find Ciri,” Jaskier said. He ran off through the ship trying to find her.

And he found here right after a cannonball tore through the ship a foot behind him.

“Jaskier!” Ciri called out. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Triss and Yennefer want me to look after you.”

“What?”

“I know, I know. But it’s important. We need to hide.”

“We’re getting attacked by pirates! How can I hide when I can help?”

“You can take that up with Yennefer after we survive this whole thing! Where can we go that won’t be lobbed with cannonballs?”

“I have an idea!” Ciri grabbed Jaskier’s hand and pulled him down into the depths of the ship.

“The cargo?” Jaskier asked, looking around at the barrels of foodstuff the ship had.

“The only way anyone could get down here is if they kill the entire crew,” Ciri said, finding a hiding spot.

“That’s reassuring.”

Ciri pulled Jaskier down into a hiding spot. And they waited there. While booms and shouts sounded above them, they hid, Jaskier alone knowing why Yennefer and Triss wanted Ciri away from this fight.

“What do you think’s going on up there?” Jaskier whispered.

“I hear a lot of screaming, so I’m guessing Yennefer and Triss are winning with their magic.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it? Means we’ll be safe.”

“Maybe. A stray arrow can change everything in a second.”

“You’re certainly an optimistic one,” Jaskier said.

“The two women who raised me are in the middle of a battle with a crew of pirates. Excuse me for being a little worried about them.”

And then they heard the floor creak.

“Quiet,” Jaskier said, as if he wasn’t the one who started their conversation.

“She’s down here,” a woman said. Now while Jaskier and Ciri didn’t know everyone on this ship super well, they at least knew them well enough that they had no idea who this person was.

“Pirate,” Ciri said.

“What should we do?” Jaskier asked. “I might be able to fend them off if I had a sword. Can your magic do anything?”

Ciri fidgeted. “My magic is very volatile. There’s no guarantee I won’t destroy both ships.”

“Okay, so do we just stay here?”

“When someone’s about to find us,” Ciri said, “we run. We’ll still have the element of surprise.”

Jaskier nodded, because the footsteps were getting closer than he would have liked.

Ciri looked back at Jaskier. She held up three fingers, and slowly counted down.

The pair sprung out of their hiding spot and barrelled into the woman in front of them. Jaskier saw another pirate in their path, and before the pirate could grab his sword, Jaskier tackled him to the side.

The pair of them ran up towards the sounds of battle, unsure of where else they could go. And the sight they saw on deck wasn’t a pretty one. The only ones from their crew that weren’t captured were Yennefer and Triss, the pair of them keeping the pirates away with their magic.

“Let them go!” Ciri screamed. And that’s when Jaskier learned just how unstable her magic was.

The magical barrier Triss had around herself and Yennefer dissolved. And Yennefer barely had enough time to throw up another barrier to keep them from falling overboard. Many of the sailors and the pirates fell off, or at least onto the ground. Jaskier and Ciri were the only two who were unaffected by the primal force of Ciri.

And somehow, over her screams, Jaskier heard footsteps chasing after them. It was the pirate woman charging towards him and Ciri. Jaskier put himself between the two women, but then the pirate screamed, “Cirilla, stop this!”

As soon as it started, the force stopped. And so did everyone else. Pirate, sailor, and mage turned to Ciri and the pirate. All was silent. Except for those who had fallen overboard. They called out for help, and the first ones to break away from the spell the two women had went to rescue them.

“How do you know my name?” Ciri asked.

“Your name is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon,” the pirate said. “Your parents were Pavetta and Duny. You lost them ten years ago in a shipwreck.”

“How do you know that?” Ciri asked. “Who are you?”

“My name is Calanthe, the Lioness of the Seas. And you Ciri, are my granddaughter.”

“You’re her grandmother?” Jaskier asked. “And you thought it was a good idea to attack the ship she was on and kill the sailors?”

“They’re not dead,” Calanthe said. Jaskier had to look around because he seriously doubted that fact. But true to her word, none of the sailors were dead. Though some that had fallen overboard would drown if no one rescued them. But that issue was being handled.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you attacked us,” Yennefer said, still not sure that Calanthe wouldn’t change her mind later.

“The reason for that was I had heard my granddaughter was traveling with the Three Witches. I didn’t know if they had here enslaved with magic or had already killed her.”

“Know we know where Ciri gets it,” Triss whispered to Yennefer.

Calanthe looked over at the two women, then back at Ciri. “Oh. I uh, probably should have seen that coming.”

“What do you want with Ciri?” Jaskier asked.

“Ciri has powerful magic,” Calanthe says. “I know people would kill to get their hands on her. I wanted to make sure she didn’t fall into the wrong hands but,” Calanthe looked over at Triss and Yennefer, and then even at Jaskier, “it looks like she’s in capable hands.”

“I feel like,” Yennefer said, “the four of us should talk.”

“Talk with the woman who boarded my ship?” the captain called out, after he was pulled back on deck due to him falling into the ocean from Ciri’s magic. “Are you mad?”

“Quite,” Yennefer said, “and please remember who’s paying you for this voyage.”

“That would be me!” Jaskier said. “So uh, let’s see what she wants, shall we.”

Jaskier didn’t realize that Yennefer meant she, Triss, Ciri, and Calanthe should speak. The captain insisted on being in that meeting, because it was his ship, and Yennefer relented on that. Jaskier however wasn’t let in. But that didn’t stop him from listening at the door.

Calanthe agreed to accompany the ship north, for she too had reasons to take down the Butcher of Blaviken. Though hers was more the desire to rule the seas unopposed rather than revenge. But were her motivations truly any more selfish than Jaskier’s? The captain opposed this idea, but Yennefer pointed out to him that he would be much safer travelling with the world’s second most famous pirate. So he relented.

Now Jaskier had not only the Three Witches, but the pirate queen and her crew helping him on his quest to get revenge. Yennefer was starting to think that maybe there was some merit to Jaskier and Ciri thinking that destiny was playing in their lives, but she wouldn’t admit to that.

And having a spare pirate ship certainly made the entire trip better. No one dared attack them, and Jaskier had a whole other ship to explore if he got bored on one. And he inevitably got bored on the other ship so after a few days went back to the other one to repeat the process.

But after they had been travelling together for three weeks, their next little hitch came up.

They had gotten to the legendary Rocks of Mist that marked the border to the northern lands. Both ships had to move slowly as they couldn’t see all the sharp rocks that gave the place its name, due to the thick mist that gave the place the other half of its name. And because of the size of their ships, it took a long, long time to make any headway through the rocks.

“Whose idea was this?” Jaskier moaned on the third day moving through the rocks.

“I’m going to do it,” Yennefer said to Triss. “I’m going to light him on fire.”

“Oh behave,” Triss said. “If he dies, we won’t get paid.”

“We could rob him,” Yennfer said. “Say he fell overboard and instead of calling for help he instead told us that we could get all his stuff if he drowned.”

“Tempting,” Triss said. “But then evenings would be more boring without his music.”

“Debatable.”

“You two wound me so,” Jaskier said.

“Don’t lump me with her,” Triss replied.

“But,” Jaskier continued, ignoring Triss, “at the very least Ciri would miss me if I perished.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Ciri shouted across the deck.

“Oh, the turmoils of being alone and friendless in this cruel world!” Jaskier said.

“Must you be so dramatic?” Yennefer asked.

“Yes. If I ever stop being dramatic, I will perish and cease to be.”

“Well know we know what to do if we ever need to get rid of you,” Yennefer said.

“Do you hear that?” Ciri asked. Jaskier hadn’t even noticed her get closer to him.

“Hear what?” Triss asked. “It’s been dead silent ever since we got to these rocks.”

Ciri looked out into the mist long enough to make Jaskier feel nervous, and then she looked out a little bit longer. “Maybe I’m just imagining things. We’ve been in this mist for too long.”

And that’s when Jaskier heard it. A soft call at first, both enticing and haunting. “Yennefer,” Jaskier said. “Do you know what magical creatures live up here?”

“Take your pick,” Yennefer said, still unable to hear the call but knowing that something was wrong. “Everything magical eventually finds its way up here.”

The voice grew louder, and Jaskier knew they would have to narrow down that list quickly.

Which Triss did. “Sirens. We need to warn the other ship.”

“It’s too late,” Ciri said. She pointed to a sailor on the other ship. He stood at the edge of the railing, leaning out so far that Jaskier was worried he would fall off.

And that’s when Jaskier felt the pull of the voice himself. When Jaskier first heard about sirens and their song, he imagined that it would entice him with physical pleasures, of someone who would know how to make him writhe and scream.

_ We can kill the Butcher _ , the voices whispered instead.  _ We have powerful magic that can end an immortal’s life. _

“How?” Jaskier asked, not fully realizing he responded to the voice.

_ We have many secrets _ , the siren voices said,  _ and we are protective of them. What will you give us in return? _

“Jaskier?” Triss asked. “Jaskier, snap out of it!”

“Sorry, what can we do to stop them?” Jaskier asked. Another sailor walked past him, his eyes glazed. “And we need to work quickly.”

“I can get a counter spell going,” Triss said. “I just need something to work to counter their song.”

Jaskier held up his lute. “What do you want me to play?”

“Anything, just make sure it isn’t too distracting for me.”

Jaskier settled on a slow ballad. Which made him think of Geralt. And that if he and Triss failed here, he would never get revenge for his lost love.

Triss started weaving her magic and as Jaskier sung, he saw some of the sailors regain their focus. “It’s working!” Jaskier called out.

“We can see,” Yennefer said, “now keep this up so it continues to work.”

Jaskier continued to play his music. The original singing call of the sirens faded more and more. Jaskier sighed, thinking that this was going to be over soon.

_ Julian _ , he then heard.  _ Julian, you must miss Geralt. We can bring him back. We sirens know so much magic that has been lost to the world. We can defy death for you. _

Jaskier looked out to the mist. And just on the edge of where the mist obscured all sight, Jaskier saw a figure. The figure was tall, broad, and even in the white mist, Jaskier could make out the figure’s long white hair.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called out to him, but still continued to play his music.

_ He’s right here _ , the voices said,  _ waiting for you. Don’t you want him? Swim out to him. He’s so close. _

Jaskier felt his fingers slow down and his feet move to the railing. He saw Geralt on the rock, one arm stretched to beckon Jaskier to come closer. He was so close, Jaskier could reach him in a few seconds.

“Jaskier,” Yennefer said. She turned the bard to face her and she slapped him.

“Ow!”

“Play your damn music.”

And Jaskier did. He looked back at the rock where he saw Geralt, or whatever illusion the siren created, and saw nothing there.

He and Triss maintained the spell long after no one seemed to be affected by the sirens’ magic. And Jaskier decided to continue playing late into the night. When he decided to wrap it up, Yennefer and a sleeping Ciri were his only audience.

“Yennefer,” Jaskier said when she got up to go to bed.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for slapping me back there.”

“It was something I’ve wanted to do for a while.”

After the Rocks of Mist, the two ships travelled through the North. From the Harpy Caves, to the Island of Illusions. The Death Tundra, and the Sea of Rainbows. But no matter where they searched, what mage or magical creature they found that was willing to listen to them, they couldn’t find a way to kill the Butcher.

“This is growing futile,” Yennefer said the evening after they tried speaking with the Mute Magician of Aldesmire. “We’ve been doing this for a month.”

“Then let’s try another month!” Jaskier said. “The legend says the Butcher came from the North, that their power comes from up here. So there has to be a way for us to stop them here as well.”

“True, but I don’t know if our boat or Calanthe are going to tolerate being pulled around by your whims in your own petty revenge quest.”

“Revenge quests are never petty.” Jaskier said. “This is a mission based in love and there’s nothing more important in the world than love.”

“I’m sure there’s so much wrong with that sentiment,” Yennefer said. “But you’re going to have to come up with a better plan than just ‘go where the wind takes us.’”

“Well do you have any ideas?” Jaskier asked. He wasn’t being serious, more annoyed with Yennefer, so her response came as a surprise.

“Yes actually. I was reading over some stories of the North I had brought with me. And I found out about a place called the Crimson Crystal Cavern.”

“Do you think this might be a lead?”

“At first I brushed it off. But then I remembered that in the stories about the Butcher, their origin states that they were ‘bathed in crimson.’”

“Sounds like the best thing I’ve heard so far,” Jaskier said.

“The only problem is,” Yennefer cut him off, “that the path we’ve been taking this past month has been taking us further from the caverns.”

“Oh fuck.”

“It shouldn’t take us a month to get there,” Yennefer said, “I think three weeks. Maybe two if we’re insanely lucky.”

“Do you really think anything about this entire adventure has been lucky for us?”

“Here’s to hoping,” Yennefer said, her voice drier than skin in desperate need of moisturizer. “I already spoke with Calanthe and with the captain, so we should be changing directions sometime soon.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said. “Thank you.”

“It’s mostly so we can get this over with and I can get on with my life.”

“Oh come on Yennefer. Admit it. You’ve had fun in this adventure and you love me.”

“I have absolutely no comment about that.”

“You watch, when I’m standing over the Butcher’s body, having gotten my revenge for them wrongfully taking the love of my life away from me, you will admit that you enjoyed this.”

“I find that doubtful,” Yennefer replied.

“I don’t!” Triss called out.

“How long have you been standing there?” Yennefer asked.

“Long enough.” Triss walked up to her partner and kissed Yennefer on the cheek. “So, the Crimson Crystal Caverns. Sounds magical. Though I can’t believe it took this bard for you to finally take me there.”

“Since when have you wanted to see those caves?”

“Since forever!”

“While this discussion sounds fascinating,” Jaskier said, fully wanting to avoid the potential argument that it could lead to, “I think we have a slight problem.”

That slight problem wasn’t so slight. Though in fact, as what Jaskier saw worried him, and what he learned next would cause him to panic, very shortly he would realize that what he thought was a problem wasn’t the problem he thought it was.

Granted, it would bring about new problems with it, but some joy as well.

Jaskier was referring to the ship that came out from behind a tall cliff. The ship was a pale red, as if it had been painted with blood but then bleached by a century of sunlight. The ship had no sails, but still crept towards them. Jaskier could see one figure on the ship, a figure clad in all black standing so still Jaskier wondered if it was a human-sized doll.

“That certainly doesn’t look inviting,” Jaskier said.

“Oh fuck,” Yennefer said. “We need to either find somewhere to hide, or figure out how to kill an immortal.”

“What are you . . .” Jaskier started. And then he understood. “That’s it. The Butcher of Blaviken’s Ship.”

“The Red Wolf,” Triss said. “Do you think we can outrun it?”

“We have two of the most powerful sorcerers in the world,” Yennefer said. “I’m sure we can manage something.”

“Well hurry,” Jaskier said. “It’s getting close fast.”

Yennefer and Triss worked their magic to get the ships to move faster. Jaskier and Ciri watched the Red Wolf as it crept towards them. It wasn’t getting closer to them, but it wasn’t getting further away either.

“We might have to fight them to survive,” Ciri said, her eyes fixed on the black clad figure watching them.

“How?” Jaskier asked. “The Butcher is immortal. We have no idea how to even kill them.”

“We could tie them up at least,” Triss said. “Keep them prisoner until we figure out how to kill them.”

“Focus on the sails,” Yennefer said. 

“I think the Red Wolf is gaining on us,” Jaskier said.

“I think he’s right,” Ciri added.

“Can’t you two do anything more?” Jaskier asked.

“I don’t know,” Triss said. “Is there anything you can do besides nag us?”

“Nagging you is just a free service that I provide.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that we need a new plan,” Yennefer said.

“Well, it looks like the Butcher is the only one on the ship,” Jaskier said.

“How could he manage an entire ship on his own?” Yennefer asked.

“The same way he manages to sail it without any actual sails. I’m sure we can handle one immortal.”

And that was the moment that the rest of the crew came up onto the deck of the Red Wolf.

“Fuck,” Jaskier said.

“Okay,” Ciri said, “we have two ships, both with capable sailors and fighters. I’m sure we can manage one ship.”

“But the Butcher is the deadliest pirate on the seas,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure the entire crew has their own magic.”

“What do we know about the Butcher?” Yennefer asked.

“The stories are very conflicting,” Jaskier said. “In some stories, the Butcher is cruel and ruthless, enjoying the chase more than the reward. Other stories paint the Butcher as someone merciful, a person who helps the poor and downtrodden. Sometimes the Butcher prefers hunting great sea beasts, and other stories the Butcher only hunted ships from the southern kingdom.”

Everyone paused to look at Jasker.

“What? Did you really think I would want to hunt down the Butcher of Blaviken and not learn as much as I could?”

“I’m just more surprised at you learning as much as you could,” Yennefer said.

“Excuse me, I learned everything I could about you three and I found you!”

All four of them knew the truth about that statement, but that was beside the point when death was approaching them in a red boat.

“Well that’s great and all,” Triss said, “do you know anything about the ship? Anything that could give us an advantage?”

“It’s a boat painted red. Legends say it was painted with the blood of the Butcher’s first victims, but other stories disprove that. The Butcher moves it with magic, but that’s about it.”

“Well it’s definitely getting closer now,” Ciri said. And indeed, the Red Wolf was getting closer.

“What do you know about the Butcher’s magic?” Yennefer asked.

“Largely, it’s a mystery. Nobody really knows how the Butcher has lived for centuries. But some people think their magic is tied to the ship itself. Do any of you know how to stop a boat?”

“A giant rock?” Yennefer asked.

“That could work. But where would we get one?” Jaskier asked.

“The Red Wolf is really close now,” Ciri said.

“Does anyone else have any other ideas?” Jaskier said.

“You’re the one who studied the Butcher,” Yennefer said. “If anyone can think of a way to stop them now, it would be you.”

Jaskier looked out at the figure of the Butcher. And for some reason, Jaskier thought the Butcher was looking right at him. Which the Butcher actually was, but Jaskier had no way of knowing that.

“I think I have an idea,” Jaskier said. “It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one that I have right now.”

“Well please try to think of something in the meantime,” Yennefer said.

Jaskier desperately tried to think of something else. But what could he do? The Butcher was immortal, which meant that not only would it be difficult to kill them, but the Butcher had centuries of knowledge and skill to back them up. Even his first idea seemed super risky, but no matter what he did, Jaskier couldn’t think of a different idea.

“Jaskier?” Triss called out.

“Let them come close,” he said. “I’m confident that this will work.”

Jaskier wasn’t. But if he sounded confident, he was sure everyone would believe him.

Yennefer and Triss stopped their magic, and watched as the Red Wolf sped up to them. As the ship got closer, Jaskier could make out the Butcher of Blaviken.

The Butcher was a tall man, his stance telling Jaskier that he would happily break anyone in half who crossed him. That stance made Jaskier try and come up with a different plan than what his insanity came up with. But nothing came to mind.

So, Jaskier put all of his hopes into one stupid idea. Granted, Jaskier got into this mess because of the stupid idea of killing an immortal pirate, so a stupid idea just might get him out of it. Which, it will.

When the Red Wolf got close enough that the pirates would board any second, Jaskier called out, “Butcher of Blaviken! You took away the person most important to me! For that, I challenge you to a duel! If I win, you have to let our ships go.”

“And if I win?” the Butcher called back in a voice that Jaskier would have recognized if he wasn’t freaking out about the entire situation.

“This is your plan?” Yennefer asked. “Jaskier, what the actual fuck?”

“If you win,” Jaskier said, “I’m probably going to be dead so why does it matter?”

The Butcher nodded, as if what Jaskier said made sense. Which it kind of does, but I’m not being paid to figure that out.

“You are either brave or a fool for challenging me,” the Butcher said. Which Jaskier is both as we all know. “This could be entertaining at least. Fine I accept.”

Jaskier let out a sigh of relief, until he realized that he was going to have to fight an immortal pirate in one-on-one combat. No biggie. Jaskier would have to remember everything that Geralt taught him, and hope and pray that it was enough.

The crew of the Red Wolf watched as their captain swung over to Jaskier. The Butcher unsheathed two long swords and pointed one at Jaskier. “Arm yourself. I want this over with.”

Jaskier pulled out his own sword and lunged at the Butcher. The pirate was quick, but fortunately for Jaskier, underestimated the bard and his abilities. The pair of them clashed, falling into a rhythm of battle that felt familiar to them, but due to them trying to survive they didn’t notice it.

And the Butcher was worried about his survival because, as Jaskier would soon learn, the Butcher wasn’t actually immortal.

It was Yennefer who noticed something off about the Butcher first. Or rather, something that she recognized about him. She remembered a talented swordsman and sailor who she had met a few years earlier. And how this sailor spoke of his true love, a young nobleman with a talent for music and had his own weird charm about him.

Yennefer realized exactly what was going on, but part of her had to admit she liked watching the swordfight, so she decided against acting immediately.

“So,” the Butcher said. “I killed the love of your life.”

“Yes! You took everything from me, Butcher of Blaviken.”

“Tell me about them. I’d like to apologize for the right person.”

Jaskier slashed at the Butcher, and the pirate blocked it. Jaskier stepped forward, so their faces were only held apart by the swords.

“He was the kindest man I’ve ever met. Granted, he was an oaf as well. But he was perfect. The best thing anyone could ever ask for.”

“That doesn’t help me remember.”

“Of course, expect a pirate to be so unromantic,” Jaskier said, as if pirates haven’t been the subject of romantic stories for the past century. “The man was tall. Strong enough to literally sweep me off my feet. HIs white hair was perfect for running your fingers through and-”

“Julian?” the Butcher asked.

“Excuse you,” Jaskier said, not realizing that the Butcher had used his real name. “I’m talking here. I want you to know exactly who you took away from me before this ends.”

“Julian, what are you doing here?” the Butcher asked.

“Don’t you dare . . . wait.”

Aggression is a hard thing to stop because of how all consuming it can be. But it can easily be replaced with confusion. As we can see in this situation.

“How do you know my name?”

“What are you doing here?” the Butcher asked. “Why is your hair yellow?”

“I’m sorry,” Triss said, “but what the fuck is going on?”

Yennefer decided to stay quiet.

“Julian,” the Butcher said, “it’s me.”

“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that because—”

The Butcher removed his mask and bandana, letting his white hair fall down to his shoulders, and for Jaskier to realize the thing you’ve known since the beginning of this story.

“What the fuck have you been doing this entire time!” Jaskier screamed at Geralt. Geralt, the Butcher of Blaviken, holy shit, Jaskier realized that Geralt was  _ the Butcher of Blaviken _ , ordered his pirates to not attack anyone else, and Geralt brought Jaskier to his cabin to talk. Though Jaskier was sure everyone heard that.

“How? The Butcher has been around for centuries. I thought the Butcher killed you! Why haven’t you tried to find me, tell me that ‘Hey, I’m alive and I’m also the world’s most infamous pirate now?’ Also,  _ why are you a pirate _ ?”

Geralt sighed. “We should sit down.”

“Oh, now you want to act rational?After you’ve spent  _ five years _ gallivanting through the seas as a pirate lord? This is when you want to act like a normal person?”

“Do you want some fucking answers or not?”

Jaskier sat down.

“I think I should explain the whole immortality thing,” Geralt said. “The Butcher of Blaviken isn’t one person. It’s a title that’s been passed on for centuries, from one person to the next.”

Jaskier realized then why there were so many conflicting stories about the Butcher, from personality, appearance, and gender.

“The previous Butcher,” Geralt said, “was a princess named Renfri. Yes, the Red Wolf attacked the ship I was serving on. But she didn’t kill me. She passed the mantle, or rather, the curse onto me.”

“Curse? What do you mean by curse?”

“Whoever holds the title of the Butcher of Blaviken,” Geralt said, “is cursed that if they spend more than three days away from the Red Wolf, they will wither, and the title will pass onto their closest loved one.”

“Oh . . . so—”

“If I had tried to leave, the curse would have passed onto you next.”

“That’s fucked up.” Jaskier paused. “But then why be a pirate? There’s so much you could have done with a ship besides looting.”

“The Warlock who holds the curse,” Geralt said.

“Great. Now there’s a warlock, because this certainly couldn’t get any worse. What does the Warlock want?”

“Gold. And to keep the name of the Butcher alive. Besides, do you really think that if I started sailing around the world in the Red Wolf, people wouldn’t want to kill me?”

Jaskier said no, but the reason why he found Geralt was because he originally wanted to kill him.

“I think we can break the curse,” Jaskier said.

Geralt couldn’t reply to that.

“The Crimson Crystal Caverns. Legends of the Butcher say that they, or I guess, the first Butcher, came from crimson. We thought that it might hold a clue to kill the Butcher.”

Geralt gave Jaskier a pointed glare.

“Hey, we were still operating under the assumption that you had killed . . . yourself. Anyway, it might have the answers we’re looking for.”

“I . . . didn’t know about those legends.”

“Geralt, you were the Butcher of Blaviken for the past five years, and you didn’t know about these legends?”

“I was trying to not get killed by a curse. I didn’t have a lot of time looking into old stories.”

“Well I mean, you could have found a way to figure it out. I know how clever you are.”

“So,” Geralt said, “the Crimson Crystal Caverns.”

“The caverns.”

“And now it’s my turn for questions. Jaskier? What kind of name is that?”

“One, I have some people out there who don’t need to know where Julian is. Two . . . it means ‘buttercup.’” Jaskier pulled out a small book from a pocket and opened it. The pages held two pressed buttercups.

“I’ve kept them,” Jaskier said. “All this time. I could never get rid of them.”

That’s when Geralt kissed Jaskier. The moment Jaskier would never get again. The moment Geralt had been wishing for for five years, but didn’t think he would be able to. Jaskier tasted the way Geralt remembered, like apples and a hint of cinnamon. But Geralt was sea salt, and Jaskier found himself loving this new sensation.

“I missed you,” Geralt said.

“I missed you so much,” Jaskier replied.

“This is cute,” Yennefer called out from behind the door. “But what’s the current plan?”

“How long have you been listening?” Geralt asked.

“Long enough. Hurry up, your pirates, Calanthe’s pirates, and the sailors we hired aren’t giving each other nice looks.”

“The Crimson Caves,” Jaskier said.

“The Crimson Caves,” Geralt said, taking Jaskier’s hand.

If you had told Jaskier months ago that he would be traveling the north, three ships following his whims, with three witches, a pirate queen, and the Butcher of Blaviken, Jaskier would have thought it a nice story but unlikely. And yes, he was right. It was unlikely, but it did happen, and it is a nice story.

But soon, that story will turn sour, as all good stories have to do at some point.

And the three ships that surrounded the island of the Crimson Caverns will certainly sour this story.

“What are the chances,” Triss said, “that Jaskier will somehow convince those ships to join us on our little adventure?”

“I recognize those ships,” Geralt said. “I see them whenever the Warlock needs something from me.”

“And do they often send three ships?” Calanthe asked.

‘I’ve only ever seen one at a time. And those ships rival the power that the Red Wolf has.”

“I don’t think they’ve seen us yet,” Calanthe said. “Geralt, you and your ship should approach, and the rest of us find a place to hide and regroup later.”

“Since when do you give me orders?” Geralt asked.

“Since she came up with a good idea,” Ciri said. “There was that small island up ahead. We can dock there, and sail around the island to meet up with you.”

“Only my crew will be coming with me,” Geralt said. “Yes, that does mean you Jaskier.”

It hadn’t taken Geralt long to get used to calling him Jaskier. He honestly thought it suited him better than Julian did, as if calling him Julian was trying to sing a melody that was just a little too high for your voice, while Jaskier was in your range.

But whatever name he preferred, the bard was upset at Geralt. “We’ve been apart for five years, and you’re telling me to leave you now?”

“It’s for your safety,” Geralt said. “The Warlock keeps track of my crew, and I don’t want you anywhere near him or his men.”

Jaskier sighed, a dramatic noise. “Fine. I guess I’ll just leave you to the whims of the Warlock, completely unprotected and on your own.”

“Jaskier, not only am I a better fighter than you, but the Warlock actually wants to keep me alive.”

“That’s not what you told me last night.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Yennefer asked. “And do we have to hear about what goes on between the two of you in bed? One day is all that I ask.”

Unfortunately for Yennefer, Jaskier wouldn’t stop saying stuff like that anytime soon. And unfortunately for Geralt, Jaskier also wouldn’t listen to him when he said Jaskier couldn’t be on the Red Wolf. Jaskier told himself he was just going to hide in the cabin, and no one would be the wiser. But when does anything in a story turn out the way the character thinks it will?

So, Jaskier found himself hiding underneath Geralt’s bed. Well, it had become Geralt’s and his bed ever since they discovered the truth, but that was currently beside the point. Jaskier thought that he would wait here until Geralt for sure had left behind the Warlock’s ships, and Jaskier wouldn’t have to wait the hours it would take for him to reunite with the rest of the ships.

Jaskier hadn’t seen Geralt in five years, and he wasn’t going to let him go for a single minute. Can you blame him? Well, Geralt was going to blame Jaskier for what happened next. For a few minutes, then Geralt would realize he loved the bard too much to blame him, and turn his anger on the actual person who created this entire mess.

The first moment that Jaskier realized he maybe made a mistake was when he got bored waiting. The second moment was when Jaskier’s legs started cramping, but he didn’t dare move them in case anyone found him.

The third moment was when Jaskier heard the flirty voice outside the door that was definitely speaking to Geralt. He realized this when the voice said, “Geralt, Butcher, darling,” the speaker drew out the “A” as if he was saying “dawling.” If this person flirting with Geralt wasn’t enough to make Jaskier want to rip the door from its frame and beat him to death with it, the way this man said “dawling” just about made Jaskier rip the door from its frame and beat him to death with it.

But Jaskier could restrain himself. Its not as if he was the man who decided to hunt down a seemingly immortal person with three witches and hardly any reliable information.

And it didn’t matter when the door opened up and the man led Geralt into the room. Seeing the man’s shoes as he sat down on the bed made Jaskier want to bite his feet off.

And then Jaskier recognized the speaker’s voice.

“I’ve been looking for someone,” Valdo Marx said. “He’s been eluding me for several months, and I know that you’re the best hunter there is.”

Geralt  _ hmmed _ , the noise that Jaskier found so familiar and endearing. But it did nothing to alleviate Jaskier’s thoughts of  _ holy shit I should have listened to Geralt and instead I decided to hide in an uncomfortable position under the bed that fucking  _ Valdo Marx _ is sitting on _ .

Jaskier wondered how his life got to be like this.

“This man,” Valdo Marx drawled on, “is probably traveling as a bard. He’s a talented musician, and I have heard he might be traveling with three powerful witches.”

Jaskier felt as if Geralt was glaring right at him. But that was impossible since Geralt didn’t know Jaskier was hiding under the bed. At least, he couldn’t know that. Right?

“What’s in it for me?” Geralt asked. And Jaskier wondered why Geralt was asking that, until he realized that he would have to act like everything was fine. He also hoped that Geralt wouldn’t put two and two together.

“I mean, besides the curse?” Marx asked.

Oh. Oh fuck. Valdo Marx was the  _ Warlock _ ? He was the man responsible for Geralt’s pirateness? And the man who forced Jaskier to be engaged to? Jaskier was really starting to believe more and more in destiny, because how does all of this  _ just happen _ ?

“Yes,” Geralt said. “I understand our . . . agreement. But this sounds personal.”

“You’re right. It’s extremely personal my dear Butcher. This man is the one dearest to me, and I’m afraid of how much danger he’s in all alone.”

Jaskier was in less danger than Marx was in from Jaskier’s wrath. But Jaskier knew that he couldn’t do anything right now. He wasn’t worried so much about Marx and his apparent magic and the fact that he was outnumbering Geralt’s men three to one. Jaskier was more worried about Geralt being upset at him.

“So I suppose,” Marx said, “that I can sweeten the pot a bit. If you bring me this man, I’ll help you search for a replacement Butcher.”

“That’s all?”

“What? I thought you’d be all over the idea of getting out of this prison sooner. Don’t you have people who miss you?”

“No one misses me,” Geralt said. Jaskier was about to get out and tell him how wrong he was and Jaskier missed him for five years. Until Jaskier realized that Geralt wasn’t lying because they had been reunited and couldn’t actually miss each other in that way.

“So what do you say? Will you find this wandering bard for me?”

“Yes,” Geralt said. “If you can help me find the next Butcher, I will help you.”

“Good,” Marx said, his voice purring. “I hope you’ll have him returned to me by the end of the month.”

Jaskier walked as Marx stood up and walked out of the room. He didn’t dare move as Geralt was still there. And a few seconds after Marx left, Geralt said, “Jaskier, if you’re hiding under the bed, come out now.”

Jaskier did so.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Geralt asked. “I asked you to go on one of the other ships! Do you have any idea how dangerous the Warlock—”

“You mean Valdo Marx.”

It took Geralt a second to process what Jaskier had said. “You mean the Warlock is a  _ fucking prince _ ?”

“Yep.”

“Why did he ask me to hunt you down?”

“Well, it might be because I’m technically his fiance.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“He’s the reason why I turned myself into a blond and changed my name. But enough about me. We need to get away from that pile of flaming shit.”

Unfortunately for them, that pile of flaming shit was waiting for them outside the door.

“I knew you’d never accept that deal,” Valdo Marx said, “unless you were hiding something. ‘I promise I’ll help you find a replacement’ is such vague bullshit that you normally would never accept it.”

Geralt reached for his sword, but Marx used magic to bind Geralt in place. Jaskier then reached for his sword, and Marx disarmed him with another spell.

“Now imagine how surprised I am,” Marx said, “to see my fiance here with the Butcher of Blaviken. Imagine how worried I must be for your own safety.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jaskier said.

“Tempting,” Marx said, “but I have more important things to take care of.” With a wave of his hand, Marx threw Jaskier back into the cabin with his magic. When Jaskier tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. He figured Marx had sealed it with his magic, or somehow had locked it. The first one was the correct answer.

“Great,” Jaskier said, “now I’m stuck in here because I was too horny to wait a few hours for Geralt to come back. Now aht do I do?” Jaskier had hoped that some goddess would answer him in a divine voice.

The cabin remained silent.

“Okay Julian, what do we have here?” The small window was his only means of escape, and fortunately Marx didn’t lock it. Though how could he? Jaskier doubted Marx even knew the window existed.

Okay, so Jaskier had a way out of the cabin. Then what? He saw a long strand of rope, but he wasn’t sure if it was long enough for the idea churning in his head. So, Jaskier decided to use the blankets to add some length to the rope, and prayed that it was crazy enough to work.

Jaskier had no problem getting out the window and repelling along the side of the boat. Which was perfect, because he was able to hear Marx speaking.

“Do we have any information about the two other ships?”

“Yes,” another person said, “one of them belongs to Calanthe.”

“Perfect,” Marx replied. “Butcher, as soon as we’re gone I need you to destroy those ships. Also, never come back to the Crimson Caves.”

“Of course,” Geralt replied. Jaskier smiled, because that meant he was right about the fact that there was an answer here about how to break the curse. But that required him to get off this ship, get away from Valdo Marx, and figure out how to break the curse. Which was only like, three things, Jaskier could easily manage that.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Marx said. Jaskier realized that Marx was probably going to go back to Geralt’s room for him. Which meant that Jaskier had to do the first thing now or everything would be ruined.

That’s when Jaskier saw the lifeboat. He hadn’t noticed it before because he was too focused on listening to Geralt’s conversation. And we all know that Jaskier can be a little dense.

And when Jaskier got to the end of his literal rope, the lifeboat was inches away from his finger.

“Fuck,” Jaskier whispered, low enough that he hoped no one would hear him but loud enough that he hoped Geralt would hear him and come to his rescue.

Which is exactly what happened.

“Jaskier, what the fuck are you doing?” Geralt hissed at him.

“Getting the fuck off this boat and trying to end this curse. What the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

“I think you’re being a massive idiot is what you’re doing.”

“Well how is that any different from normal?” Jaskier didn’t realize what he said until he said it. But the realization that this said this without thinking it through only further proves the point that he was making. “Can you just help me?”

Geralt first looked around to make sure no one saw him get into the lifeboat. There were people watching. However they were all his pirates and they all hated Marx as much as Geralt did, so they really didn’t care what Geralt did because they trusted him. So Geralt got into the lifeboat with several witnesses watching and helped Jaskier into it.

“What’s the plan?” Geralt asked.

“Well obviously we need to get to the Caverns. Clearly something tied to your curse is in there, and if we can get through this, we can get rid of that fly perfume.”

“ . . . what?”

“Fly perfume. It’s useless because flies are disgusting and no one, you know what, never mind. Let’s just get out of here.”

The lifeboat touched the water the moment they heard Marx scream.

“Can’t we go any faster?” Jaskier asked.

“And who’s the one rowing here?”

“That’s why I asked the question instead of just rowing faster myself.”

Geralt did row faster, hoping that some miracle would come along and help them get away.

Which did come along in the form of Three Witches. “Jaskier!” Ciri called out.

Geralt and Jaskier turned to see Ciri, Yennefer, and Triss approaching them in their own boat.

“Ciri!” Jaskier called out. “Triss! We need your help. And yours too Yennefer, I don’t know why I didn’t include you initially. An angry Warlock is after us and we need some magical help.”

“I got this,” Yennefer said.

“What?” Jaskier asked, since he was unable to hear Yennefer from how far away they were from each other. But Yennefer didn’t respond with her words. Rather, she responded with her magic., because she knew time was urgent and the few seconds it took for her to respond to Jaskier instead of casting her spell could make all the difference.

Jaskier turned back to the Red Wolf in time to see Valdo Marx run up to the rail and glare at him. “A little help!” Jaskier called out.

And Yennefer didn’t answer. Again for the same reasons as before. And she finished her own spell right as Marx sent a fireball hurtling towards Jaskier and Geralt. Jaskier was confused by Marx’s choice of magic as Marx wanted both men alive, one to fuck over seven ways to Sunday and the other to marry. But what Jaskier didn’t realize was that Warlock fire has interesting properties. Meaning that the fire would paralyze them and leave them and the boat unharmed.

But Yennefer already had a counter prepared. Not a literal counter to send the fireball back at Marx, but rather a way of escaping.

Jaskier screamed when the fireball almost reached him. But then the light of the fireball vanished. And when Jaskier could make sense of what was going on, which is something foreign to him, he realized that the boat was no longer rocking.

“We found an entrance to the caves,” Yennefer said. “Let’s hurry.”

It took Jaskier a few minutes to see that Yennefer had somehow teleported her, the boat with Jaskier and Geralt, as well as Ciri and Triss.

“She’s been working on that for years,” Ciri said. “I’m happy to see her finally get the spell right.”

“Wait, that was the first time she had actually teleported someone successfully?” Jaskier asked. “What usually happens?”

“Whatever I try to teleport ends up disappearing,” Yennefer said.

“Wait, you risked all our lives to test out a spell you haven’t even perfected?”

“Yes. What part were you confused about?”

Jaskier wondered how his life got to be this way. He really had no one else to blame, since he was the one who left to find the Three Witches to get revenge on the Butcher of Blaviken. But if someone told Jaskier that, he would counter by saying it was really Valdo Marx’s fault for the curse put on Geralt so they couldn’t be together, Jaskier’s father’s fault because he would never have accepted Geralt as a suitable husband for Jaskier, as well as Geralt’s fault for leaving Jaskier. Then the other person could have counter-argued that while Jaskier had no control over those events, he still chose to run away for revenge. But Jaskier wasn’t thinking about blame, his personal question was rhetorical as he, Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri, and Triss all entered the Crimson Caverns to end this once and for all.

“Okay,” Geralt said, “who here has the plan for what we do?”

Jaskier looked at Yennefer, Yennefer looked at Jaskier, then back at Geralt. Ciri and Triss looked at each other, then at the group. Geralt looked at Jaskier and only Jaskier.

“What?” Jaskier asked.

“This entire thing was your idea,” Geralt said.

“My plan was to kill the Butcher. What do you think I was supposed to do when I discovered that the Butcher is really the love of my life who didn’t bother to tell me he was alive?”

“Kind of hard to do when I’m literally under an evil Warlock’s curse to do whatever he wants me to do.”

“Can we please focus?” Ciri asked. “I would like to get this done and over with as soon as we can.”

“Right,” Jaskier said. “I guess we explore the caves and hope for the best?”

“That’s your plan?” Yennefer asked.

“Do you have anything better?” Triss replied. Yennefer did not, so the five of them entered the Crimson Caverns.

It was clear where the caverns got their names. From the rubies that lined the walls. If Jaskier wasn’t being chased by his evil Warlock ex, he definitely would have taken whatever time he needed to get some of the stones for himself. Though he didn’t quite realize that mingin precious stones from a cave was a long, arduous process. And also that the rubies were filled with magic that prevented anyone from removing them from the caves. But he wasn’t thinking about that due to the fact that he was being chased by his evil Warlock ex. What he did think about was if Marx was actually his ex. He hadn’t officially broken off the engagement, but running away does kind of count as a break up. Though clearly, Marx didn’t think that it was off.

“Do you know anything about these caves Geralt?” Ciri asked, which pulled Jaskier out of the weird thought rabbit hole he was going down.

“No,” he replied, looking at a large cluster of rubies. “Before you told me about this place, I had no idea that something like this existed.”

“This place is magic,” Triss said. “It’s almost as if the walls are alive.”

“And it’s getting stronger the further we go in,” Yennefer said. “I think if we follow it, we might solve this mystery.”

They followed Yennefer and Triss as they delved deeper into the caves. After a few minutes of walking, even Jaskier felt something thrum. He knew that it was the magic of this place, and it scared him that he could sense it.

“This place is old,” Ciri said.

“How close are we?” Geralt asked, not needing to voice what everyone thought:  _ we need to get out of here _ .

They walked in silence the rest of the way down into the caverns, unsure if there was anything to anger in its ruby depths, but unwilling to risk it if anything was down there. Until Yennefer said, “It’s up ahead. Whatever it is, it’s there.”

The group turned another corner, unsure if they actually wanted to see what waited for them.

It was the largest ruby they had ever seen. The largest ruby in the world, in fact, and in any other situation, they might have thought about what it could have bought them. Except for Ciri who’s a pure innocent child. She would have found the ruby beautiful and been mesmerized by how it looked embedded into the wall.

“This is . . .” Triss started. “I would say unexpected, but I don’t know what else I expected in a cave full of magical rubies.”

“Hold on,” Jaskier said, “I think I’ve heard about this before. Or at least, something like this. There are old stories about giant gemstones in the world, centers of magical power. Most of them have been lost due to greedy people digging them up and cutting them down. I think this might be one of them.”

“And this is now coming to you?” Yennefer asked. “We told you there’s powerful magic in these caves that are wall to wall rubies, and now you remember this?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I remember a random legend I heard years ago when I’m worrying about an evil Warlock and his curse on Geralt? I have no idea why I would completely space that.”

“What do the stories say?” said Ciri, one of two voices of reason in this whole group. “Anyway of getting rid of its magic?”

“I think . . .” Jaskier started. “I think the easiest way to deplete its magic is to remove the ruby.”

“That’s the easiest?” Yennefer asked. “I mean, it’s embedded into the wall. Did anyone bring a pick ax?”

Triss reached into a too small bag and pulled out a long pick ax. “What? You said we’d be going to a cave filled with rubies, so I thought bringing something to excavate the jewels would be useful.”

“This is why I love you,” Yennefer said, giving Triss a kiss.

“So do I get a kiss per pick ax?” Triss asked, pulling two more out of her magical bag.

Geralt, Jaskier, and Triss all set to work, digging the ruby out of the wall. There had been some argument as to who would do the digging since they lacked two pickaxes. But it was settled that Jaskier should have one, since everything going on was his mess. Then Geralt, because had he not joined the navy, none of this would have happened. Then Triss said she would do it, because she was tired of arguing with Yennefer and Ciri who were volunteering to do it.

After several long minutes, and several breaks on Jaskier’s part, they managed to get the crystal out. All in all, it was looking like things from here on out were going their way. But things must always take a turn for the worst in these stories before we reach the end.

And that turn came in the form of red magic that bound them. “I must thank you,” Valdo Marx said, his voice echoing through the cavern, “that thing’s magic kept me from removing it from here. Now that I can move this around, it’ll make things much easier.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jaskier spat at the warlock.

“I try to be. I know how hard I try to be. But as for the rest of you,” Marx said, looking at Geralt and the three women. “I think I’ll kill the lot of you. Except for you.” Marx pointed at Ciri. “As Calanthe’s granddaughter, you might prove useful to me.”

The thing Ciri called Marx certainly didn’t befit a lady. But she was a strong sorceress in her own right. So if anyone had a problem with her language, please just don’t.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Marx said.

“Please do,” Yennefer said. “A quick honorable death seems better than anything you could do to us.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. However, I just don’t have time for that. Besides, I don’t think I can manage the Butcher, three witches, and my rambunctious fiance all at once. So let’s get going.”

The magic forced Jaskier and Ciri to walk towards the warlock. But it constricted against Geralt, Yennefer, and Triss. “Too bad I won’t be able to draw this out,” Marx said.

Jaskier wracked his head for a way to stop Marx from killing his friends. Anything to give them just a few more minutes to come up with a way out of this. When he remembered the legends about the Butcher.

“You can’t kill Geralt,” Jaskier said. Marx stopped his magic for a second, letting Geralt, Yennefer, and Triss breathe again.

“Excuse me?” Marx asked, his tone very clear that he didn’t want Jaskier to speak.

“If you kill Geralt, what will happen with the Butcher? Who takes the mantle?”

“The mantle goes to the person closest to the Butcher, and they must . . .” Marx looked over at Geralt, then at Jaskier and Ciri. He certainly couldn’t have his fiance take the mantle, being forced to sail for the rest of his life. And while Ciri could make a good replacement, Marx didn’t trust her to be anywhere near Calanthe.

“Fine,” Marx said. “I guess I can wait a bit until I can get his replacement. And if I can draw out one death, why not three?” Marx pulled Geralt, Yennefer, and Triss onto their feet. With another spell he caused the ruby to float a foot behind him. And with our heroes in tow, the Warlock trekked back out of the Crimson Caverns.

But Jaskier needed to think of a new plan. And this time, he had no doubt that Marx would kill them when he got the first opportunity. But how could he combat Marx’s magic? Jaskier didn’t have any magic of his own, and he hadn’t learned anything from Yennefer or Triss during the months of their travels. What could he do in order to get them away from the evil man that Jaskier was going to marry?

That’s when Jaskier realized that if he failed, Geralt would be lost to him forever. And he’d have to marry the Warlock who kept Geralt away from Jaskier this entire time. If there was anything that made Jaskier need to find a solution, that was it.

When they exited the caverns, Jaskier didn’t have a plan. He looked around at his friends, but they didn’t have anything. Well, Jaskier couldn’t read their minds so he actually had no idea. For all he knew, they could have an amazing plan and were waiting to act. If Jaskier did something, it might mess up their plan. Or they could be just as lost as Jaskier, and he wasn’t willing to risk that for a single minute.

Jaskier knew that all of this came down to that giant ruby floating right behind Marx. Could he destroy it? Jaskier knew rubies were tough, so he would need a miracle to break it. But were magical rubies the same? Did the magic coursing through them make them weaker? It would make more sense if it made them that much stronger, but Jaskier certainly hadn’t studied enough about magic to know either way.

That’s when Jaskier heard the singing.

“The sirens,” Jaskier whispered to himself, an idea already forming in his head.

“What was that?” Valdo Marx asked.

“Nothing,” Jaskier said, a little too quickly. “I certainly didn’t say anything.” Jaskier then started humming. It was soft at first, and he almost wondered if this would work.

Until the siren song echoed back his tune.

“Did you hear that?” Marx asked. “What is that?”

“Nothing,” Ciri said, the one close enough to hear Jaskier’s own humming. “It’s nothing. Probably just some trick your brain is playing on you.”

Marx glared at Ciri, then turned back to the ocean where the voice was getting stronger. Jaskier in turn got louder with his own singing, until everyone could hear him.

Which was when the siren song overtook Marx. Jaskier would have sighed, if he wasn’t worried that ending his song would mean the siren would take him over.

“Julian?” Marx asked. But he wasn’t looking back at Jaskier. He was looking out into the ocean. Jaskier, the real one, sang louder. And the fake Jasker that was luring Marx to a watery grave also sang louder in response to the real Jaskier singing louder.

Unfortunately, the siren was also calling to Jaskier’s friends and not just Marx. “Oh shit!” Jaskier sang. “I would very much appreciate it if you would leave them alone and just go after this warlock!”

Definitely not Jaskier’s finest work. Though he knew he sang worse. And he was grateful that everyone within earshot was under the siren’s influence, so no one besides him would carry that terrible memory to their grave.

The siren sang back, and though it didn’t use a language Jaskier recognized, he knew that the siren wanted to lure them all into the sea.

“I understand but I would really appreciate it!” Jaskier waited for the siren’s response. He was worried that the siren would stop singing altogether, and that Marx would regain lucidity. But everyone around him appeared to be drunk or high or drunk  _ and _ high.

Then the siren resumed their song. Marx stepped closer to the sea. Jaskier turned to his friends. They looked dazed, but they were at least standing still. Well, they were swaying to the music, but imminent death from drowning wasn’t anywhere in their near future.

Jaskier continued to sing as Marx walked further into the ocean. “Julian?” Marx called out when the water reached his shins. “Julian, what are you doing out there? It’s time for us to go home.” The water reached Marx’s knees.

For a brief moment, Jaskier wondered if this was a little too cruel to do. But then he remembered that Marx had forced him into an engagement, and cursed Geralt into becoming a pirate lord. So Jaskier kept on singing.

The siren struck when the water reached Marx’s waist. Jaskier only saw the flash of a tentacle, and he found it scarier that Marx didn’t scream. He was there one second, and gone the next.

Jaskier didn’t dare stop singing for several minutes.

He ran over to Geralt the moment he stopped. Geralt swayed on his feet, and Jaskier helped get him steady on his feet. He ignored the sound of Yennefer hitting the sand. “Geralt,” Jaskier said, “are you okay? It’s over. It’s finally over.”

“Julian . . .”

Geralt nearly fell over, but Jaskier managed to catch him in time. Jaskier helped get Geralt sitting down, and then ran to help Triss and Ciri before they fell.

“The crew,” Geralt said. He gestured out to the ocean vaguely, brain still addled by the siren’s song. “Marx’s men. We still need to deal with them.”

“Fuck, I hadn’t thought about that,” Jaskier said. He looked out and saw Marx’s boats heading straight for them. Except, the flags were wrong. They weren’t the red symbol from before, but rather a lioness. “I think that’s been taken care of.”

It took Geralt a few minutes before he could make out the new flags. And several more minutes for Calanthe to land the ships on the island.

“Figures,” Calanthe said when she saw the group sitting on the beach, “that when I commandeer three ships, you’re all here on your lazy asses enjoying the beach.”

“Not true,” Jaskier said, “I managed to convince a siren to eat an evil warlock. Though, I guess everyone else did nothing.”

Geralt playfully punched Jaskier’s arm. “Can we please leave?” Yennefer asked. “I think I’ve had enough of boats for the next few decades.

“Wait,” Triss said, “the ruby. Don’t we need to do something about it?”

“The ruby powered Marx’s spell,” Geralt said. “Now that he’s gone, I don’t think we need to destroy it. I can keep it safe.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Calanthe said. “Now let's get off this forsaken island.”

Several hours later, Calanthe had left with her granddaughter, Yennefer, and Triss, while Jaskier joined Geralt on his ship. They knew they would see each other again, but didn’t know when.

Jaskier slept for the next few hours. The strain of everything that happened finally reaching him, and the relief of it finally being over. When he woke, he felt Geralt idly running a hand across his back.

“I assume you want to head back home,” Geralt said. “Back to your parents.”

“Will you come with me?”

Geralt hummed, that same noise once again.

“I don’t know,” Jaskier said. “What about you? What can you do?”

“I . . . I don’t know. Could I ever go back there?”

“You don’t have to. And neither do I.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to be the Butcher anymore,” Jaskier said. “But, that doesn’t mean we have to leave the sea. I mean, I did kind of enjoy traveling the seas.”

“Is that what you want?” Geralt asked.

“As long as it’s with you.”


End file.
